It was one of them days in early September, windy and grey. I was trying to walk off a hangover on Hampstead Heath. When I left home it was windy, but now it started to rain. I took shelter under a large oak. I crouched down and rested my back against its thick trunk. I listened to the wind whipping about the tree tops, the sound of swaying branches relaxed me.
The rain stopped after a while and I started walking again. I had bought a small bottle of Smirnoff from an off-licence next to the Heath. I took it out of my pocket, 200ml, I wondered if it would be enough to ease my hangover. I took a long swig and it warmed its way down, I dry reached and my eyes watered as the alcohol hit my stomach. I felt the familiar rush pass through me. I took another swig and this time it felt good.
I finished the vodka in no time. I was half cut again and smiling to myself. I wanted more alcohol. The wind died down as I made my way back to the off-licence. I thought this time I'd buy a big bottle and some orange juice and have a drink at home in comfort.
By the time I got home it was one o'clock in the afternoon. The wind had died off and although it was still a grey day, it felt good to me.
Indoors, I poured orange juice into four fingers of vodka, it was strong, but went down no problem. I put some music on and sat and drank. It didn't take long to drink three quarters of a litre bottle. I thought I might need more. It was going down easy. I was buzzing like a vibrator.
By three-thirty I had finished the vodka. I felt on top of the world, it was a drunken world, but I was on top of it. The afternoon was getting dull, but still looked inviting. I got myself ready to head back out. I left the house.
I felt as if I was walking on a cushion of air. I felt as if I'd not a care, even though I felt myself zig-zagging on my way to buy more alcohol.
I thought I might visit a pub, but I couldn't trust myself to look less drunk than I was. It was Monday afternoon and I felt like Saturday night. I'd better try and keep a low profile.
I ended up back on Hampstead Heath sitting on a bench looking at grass and trees with a bottle of vodka in my hand. looking and feeling every bit the alcoholic I knew I was becoming. It was dusk and the light was leaving the heath. I sat and drank listening to an owl hooting as darkness crept in.
The dark surrounded me and all I could see was dark shapes. This bottle of vodka was going down a lot slower than the other one. I felt less buzzing and more sinking, I felt down. I was feeling sorry for myself. I was thinking what the hell was I doing sitting in the dark drinking vodka. I wondered what the time was and I checked my pockets for my mobile and realised I'd left it at home. "Fucking typical!" I thought.
I was staring into the dark when I saw a white light shine. "What's that?" I said to myself. Then the white light turned blue, then a bluish-white and then a deep electric blue. "What the fuck!" I said, then stood and started walking toward the light.
I walked across open grass land and then into a wood. My eyes where fixed to the light. I stumbled and tripped a few times, but managed to keep my feet. The light didn't seem to be staying in one place. It was moving, like it was leading me. I realised I could see okay. The wood was bathed in a ghostly white light, but I didn't feel afraid. I felt drunk and drawn; drawn toward the blue light.
After walking through the wood for about fifteen minutes I walked into a clearing. A small fire burned there. it's flames where blue and white. It looked beautiful and I was drawn to it. I walked up to the fire and sat cross-legged next to it and stared into the flames. I could feel no heat coming from the fire, although I felt warm. I reached out toward the flames, still I felt no heat. Then I touched the flames, they felt cold, not hot. I put my hand through the flames and then brought it back out, my hand looked okay. I put my hand back in the flames and left it there for about ten seconds and brought it back out. My hand glowed like the flames and then normal again, my hand felt and looked okay. "Fuck me!" I said out loud and took a long swig of vodka and this time it made me feel good. Like I had felt earlier in the day. I felt high and euphoric and my manhood went hard. "Fuck me!" I said again.
"Do you have to swear?" Said a voice.
"What! I said. "Who's there?"
